Divorce Contract C78

Chapter 78

Dohyeon didn’t deny a single word. He just stood there, blank-faced, taking all of Eunsuk’s disgust. She clicked her tongue, gave him one last cutting look—like she hoped he wasn’t actually as trash as she thought—and swept out of the lounge.

He stayed behind, leaning against the window for a long time, staring at the sky. What had been a bright day now looked heavy with clouds, rain threatening.
If Eunsuk left and the weather turned gloomy, Igyeol would sink right back into that darkness.
He didn’t even realize how naturally his mind always drifted back to Igyeol—more now than ever.

He knew he couldn’t fix what he’d shattered. But still, he kept watching him, like answers would appear if he looked long enough.
And he knew—painfully knew—that Igyeol no longer looked back. If their gazes met, it was just coincidence.
Those pale brown eyes didn’t hold him anymore.

He kept turning the same question over and over:
How do I help him recover?
What am I supposed to do?

Maybe he already knew the answer.
Maybe the only real solution was to step away—to give Igyeol and the baby their own life, far from his family’s interference, far from him.
And above all… to disappear from his sight.

He knew, deep down, that nothing else would work.

“…But I don’t want that.”

He knew Igyeol was broken.
And yet, even broken, he wanted to keep him close.
His heart was split between the desire to hold on and the duty to let go.
Every day the balance shifted.
And today?
His selfishness won.
Even if ruined, he wanted Igyeol near him.

His thoughts were cut short when word came that Im Yeonhui, still waiting downstairs, was demanding how much longer she had to wait.
With slow steps, he headed down. He’d told her not to come. He’d made it clear. But she came anyway.

He sighed heavily as he walked.
Would he even see Igyeol’s room before Eunsuk left again?
He rubbed his face with a tired hand, eyes red from nights without sleep, and stepped out of the lift.

On the first floor café, Im Yeonhui sat by the window—poised, elegantly dressed, drinking coffee like she was at some luxury hotel rather than a chain café.

“I’ve waited a long time, my son,” she said sweetly, placing the cup down without even a clink. Her smile never faltered. Her eyes rose slowly, graceful, landing on her son like she was admiring a portrait.

“I told you not to come. Why are you here.”

“Our grandchild has strong traits, yes? Of course he does. Your child—how could he not? I knew it would be so. With such a strong line, dominance is only natural. Is it not so?”

He stared at her with open disgust.
This was the same woman who whispered suspicion, the same woman who once questioned whether the child was even theirs.
Now she was bragging because Igyeol had given birth to a “proper heir.”

“I’m not asking this for curiosity. I need to know. Answer honestly.”

“About what?”

“Did you criticize Igyeol for his traits?”

“Well… not much. Only here and there. You know how the Chairman wanted a great-grandchild—even if he hid it. What parent wouldn’t worry when there’s no child? And Igyeol was recessive. The problem was obvious. I’ll admit, I was frustrated. But that’s how affection shows, is it not? Truly, I grew fond of him—you may not believe it.”

At her words, Dohyeon’s expression darkened.
Hearing—with his own ears—that she had sat in front of Igyeol and said such things… his stomach twisted.

“…What exactly did you say?”

“Only that perhaps the trouble came from him being recessive. That if he had been dominant, things might have been different.”

Under his cold stare, she fidgeted with her necklace.
Even she knew she had crossed lines—but she said it anyway.

“I may have mentioned, a few times, that it would’ve been better to choose someone dominant. But not often. Only because your father was impatient. It wasn’t from my heart. You know he adored Igyeol. I didn’t mean it. Truly.”

“…Ha…”

He shut his eyes tight.
How was something like this supposed to be fixed?
Could it even be fixed?

With his own failures—and now learning his mother’s cruelty—he didn’t wonder why Igyeol had broken.
He wondered how he had survived at all.

If the roles were reversed…
If he were the one in pain…
He would’ve demanded a divorce.
Or at least demanded protection.
But Igyeol had said nothing.
Not one complaint.
He just endured.

And Dohyeon?
He had known his mother disliked Igyeol.
Yet he didn’t intervene—because Igyeol never asked for help.
He hadn’t shielded him, not once.

And if Igyeol had asked?
Would he truly have stepped in?

He wasn’t even sure anymore.

“I… I don’t have the face to stand before him.”

“What have you done that’s so wrong? Why should you lower your head? Did he accuse you? Did he demand my apology?”

“…Now I see where I got my shamelessness. From you, Mother.”

“…What?”

His face twisted in grief, and he rose from his seat.

“You will not see the child. Don’t come again.”

“What nonsense is this? That I can’t see my grandchild? Did Igyeol demand that? Are you using the child as leverage? Has that brazen creature turned you against me?”

He didn’t answer.
That he had never recognized the kind of woman she truly was…
He felt disgusted with himself.

“I’ve chosen a name for the child,” she said quickly. “In his fortune, this name will bring blessing. Here—”

“I told you: do not come here unless called. And even if you do, you will not see him. Save your energy.”

She fell silent at the defeated tone of his voice.

“And why would you name the child? By what right?”

“Such things are for elders. Do you not know how long we yearned for him?”

He let out a humorless laugh.

“Funny. A short while ago you were desperate for us to divorce.”

He didn’t even look at the envelope she held out.
He met her eyes once, then turned away.
She clicked her tongue.
She expected coldness—but not such a complete wall.
That he now barred her from even approaching the ward?
Unthinkable.

But in her mind, there was no limit.
If she wanted something, she would find a way.
She told herself she only had to wait—wait until her son wasn’t nearby, or a guard wasn’t looking.

Dohyeon’s chest tightened painfully, but he believed she wouldn’t act immediately.
All he needed to do was protect Igyeol—completely.
No more hurt.
No more humiliation.
If he kept him safe, then—

“…No. That’s not enough.”

The lift doors opened.
A bitter laugh escaped him.
How foolish he was—to think shallow measures could erase the damage already done.

His expression twisted as he stepped inside.

At the room door, he hesitated.
Hearing that Eunsuk was still inside, he didn’t enter.
He sat in a chair outside and waited.

Eventually, the door opened.
He saw the bundle she carried first—then Eunsuk’s face, stripped of warmth.